Nightwing: Heartless

Part 54: One Month Later

The everpresent headache could have many sources. The malnutrition, restricted water, or maybe the continued blows to the head. And then her wrists, her poor wrists. They were wrapped in bandages now, under the manacles, but she could feel them throb. She tried to move her fingers every once in a while, but it just left her in more pain. Most days she lay like this, on her side, and waited to be fed.

Today she fantasized about grass. She used to hate grass, the itchy nature of it, but now she wished she had taken advantage of grass when she could, wished she had laid in it, felt it, enjoyed it more. What she would give for grass, or more importantly, the sun. She closed her eyes and pictured the sun above her, its warmth instead of the constant damp chill of her cell. She went into a coughing fit, grimacing at how it hurt her throat. Any number of things could kill her here, it was just a matter of time. Did her parents know she was missing yet? How long had it been? Have her friends noticed, or do they assume she just stopped coming around?

The door opened, a creak now in its hinges. Willa just watched Deathstroke walk in, but this time he stopped just inside the doorway. He gestured and another man, with his face covered, brought a chair in. Another person entered behind, a hood covering their face. The person who brought the chair left quickly, but the second person stayed put. They seemed to be studying Willa.

Deathstroke walked around and... unlocked her shackles? She blinked in surprise, and Deathstroke smirked. "I thought we would try something new, sweetheart." Then he pulled her up to her feet. Once she focused on the chair she saw the places for her wrists to be strapped in. She struggled weakly, afraid for whatever would happen to her today. She felt Deathstroke's chuckle in his chest, "still a fighter." He threw her in the chair and fixed her with a stare. She didn't move until her wrists were restrained on the arms of the chair. "Good girl," Deathstroke patted her head.

The hooded figure stepped forward, pulling down his covering. It was still dim, but Willa wondered if he was human. His skin was ghostly white, with pink veins running through his face, but the most disturbing part of his appearance was his brain. It was visible. Willa wondered if she was hallucinating.

Why don't you give up now? Willa gasped. It was an unfamiliar voice, and by the smirk on his face, it was the stranger's, but he hadn't spoken. With his mouth, Willa realized. He was like M'gann, able to enter her mind. Willa pressed herself as far back in the chair as she could as he leaned forward on the arms to get a better look at her face.

"You've done quite a number," he remarked to Deathstroke, tracing what Willa assumed was a bruise around her right eye socket. "Pity I can't see what Nightwing sees in you. But no matter, we'll find out soon enough, won't we?" She swallowed at the gleam in his eye. She looked to Deathstroke, pleading with her eyes against whatever was about to happen. He smirked and shook his head. What did she expect? Him to finally show mercy? Idiot, she scoffed at herself.

The man walked behind her chair so Willa couldn't see him. She jumped as he touched his fingers to her temples, then felt his breath on her ear, "this will be quite unpleasant." The glee in his voice was unmistakable and Willa gasped again as she felt him enter her mind.

Enter was a generous term. Impale was more like it. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to shake his grip off her head but it was no use. Her whole life opened before her. It was like a butcher hacking through her mind. Brain surgery but she was awake. Her memories, every moment, was dissected. Over and over.

"Well?" It was Deathstroke's voice.

"Nothing."

"That's not what I pay for you, Psimon. I thought you were good."

"I am," the man- Psimon- hissed, "but there was nothing there."

"Or maybe Miss Martian permanently damaged your abilities."

"Or maybe you're wrong. There was nothing in her mind concerning Nightwing. Nothing about any of the heroes."

"Try again tomorrow."

"Of course."

Willa would have reacted if she had any energy left. She heard their footsteps retreating and opened her eyes once she was in pitch black again. It didn't hurt her head any more. She couldn't stop shaking, her thoughts were beginning to form again, but each one sent another pang through her mind. Did they say try again tomorrow? Could she survive that again? At least she knew Miss Martian's failsafe had worked. The memory flashed, at dinner with her, Dick, and Wally, when they had gone to the bathroom. Dick had been particularly anxious that week, about his Team being interrogated for information. Willa had asked M'gann if there was a way to put a psychic blocker in someone's mind.

It seemed to have worked, because Psimon hadn't found any trace of Dick, or M'gann. It was how she thought it would work, even if it was her first time making one. She said if anyone entered her mind searching for Dick, all memories concerning him and the Team would disappear. They were slowly seeping back in now, finding their place in her timeline. When M'gann put in the blocker, Willa had barely felt a tickle. She felt every move of Psimon though, even the ghost of his touch.